Andersen\'s Fairy Tales
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Hans Christian Andersen >> Andersen\'s Fairy Tales
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ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES
CONTENTS
The Emperor's New Clothes
The Swineherd
The Real Princess
The Shoes of Fortune
The Fir Tree
The Snow Queen
The Leap-Frog
The Elderbush
The Bell
The Old House
The Happy Family
The Story of a Mother
The False Collar
The Shadow
The Little Match Girl
The Dream of Little Tuk
The Naughty Boy
The Red Shoes
THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES
Many years ago, there was an Emperor, who was so excessively fond of new
clothes, that he spent all his money in dress. He did not trouble himself in
the least about his soldiers; nor did he care to go either to the theatre or
the chase, except for the opportunities then afforded him for displaying his
new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day; and as of any
other king or emperor, one is accustomed to say, "he is sitting in council,"
it was always said of him, "The Emperor is sitting in his wardrobe."
Time passed merrily in the large town which was his capital; strangers arrived
every day at the court. One day, two rogues, calling themselves weavers, made
their appearance. They gave out that they knew how to weave stuffs of the most
beautiful colors and elaborate patterns, the clothes manufactured from which
should have the wonderful property of remaining invisible to everyone who was
unfit for the office he held, or who was extraordinarily simple in character.
"These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!" thought the Emperor. "Had I such a
suit, I might at once find out what men in my realms are unfit for their
office, and also be able to distinguish the wise from the foolish! This stuff
must be woven for me immediately." And he caused large sums of money to be
given to both the weavers in order that they might begin their work directly.
So the two pretended weavers set up two looms, and affected to work very
busily, though in reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the most
delicate silk and the purest gold thread; put both into their own knapsacks;
and then continued their pretended work at the empty looms until late at
night.
"I should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my cloth," said the
Emperor to himself, after some little time had elapsed; he was, however,
rather embarrassed, when he remembered that a simpleton, or one unfit for his
office, would be unable to see the manufacture. To be sure, he thought he had
nothing to risk in his own person; but yet, he would prefer sending somebody
else, to bring him intelligence about the weavers, and their work, before he
troubled himself in the affair. All the people throughout the city had heard
of the wonderful property the cloth was to possess; and all were anxious to
learn how wise, or how ignorant, their neighbors might prove to be.
"I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers," said the Emperor at
last, after some deliberation, "he will be best able to see how the cloth
looks; for he is a man of sense, and no one can be more suitable for his
office than he is."
So the faithful old minister went into the hall, where the knaves were working
with all their might, at their empty looms. "What can be the meaning of this?"
thought the old man, opening his eyes very wide. "I cannot discover the least
bit of thread on the looms." However, he did not express his thoughts aloud.
The impostors requested him very courteously to be so good as to come nearer
their looms; and then asked him whether the design pleased him, and whether
the colors were not very beautiful; at the same time pointing to the empty
frames. The poor old minister looked and looked, he could not discover
anything on the looms, for a very good reason, viz: there was nothing there.
"What!" thought he again. "Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never
thought so myself; and no one must know it now if I am so. Can it be, that I
am unfit for my office? No, that must not be said either. I will never confess
that I could not see the stuff."
"Well, Sir Minister!" said one of the knaves, still pretending to work. "You
do not say whether the stuff pleases you."
"Oh, it is excellent!" replied the old minister, looking at the loom through
his spectacles. "This pattern, and the colors, yes, I will tell the Emperor
without delay, how very beautiful I think them."
"We shall be much obliged to you," said the impostors, and then they named the
different colors and described the pattern of the pretended stuff. The old
minister listened attentively to their words, in order that he might repeat
them to the Emperor; and then the knaves asked for more silk and gold, saying
that it was necessary to complete what they had begun. However, they put all
that was given them into their knapsacks; and continued to work with as much
apparent diligence as before at their empty looms.
The Emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men were
getting on, and to ascertain whether the cloth would soon be ready. It was
just the same with this gentleman as with the minister; he surveyed the looms
on all sides, but could see nothing at all but the empty frames.
"Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you, as it did to my lord the
minister?" asked the impostors of the Emperor's second ambassador; at the same
time making the same gestures as before, and talking of the design and colors
which were not there.
"I certainly am not stupid!" thought the messenger. "It must be, that I am not
fit for my good, profitable office! That is very odd; however, no one shall
know anything about it." And accordingly he praised the stuff he could not
see, and declared that he was delighted with both colors and patterns.
"Indeed, please your Imperial Majesty," said he to his sovereign when he
returned, "the cloth which the weavers are preparing is extraordinarily
magnificent."
The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth which the Emperor had ordered
to be woven at his own expense.
And now the Emperor himself wished to see the costly manufacture, while it was
still in the loom. Accompanied by a select number of officers of the court,
among whom were the two honest men who had already admired the cloth, he went
to the crafty impostors, who, as soon as they were aware of the Emperor's
approach, went on working more diligently than ever; although they still did
not pass a single thread through the looms.
"Is not the work absolutely magnificent?" said the two officers of the crown,
already mentioned. "If your Majesty will only be pleased to look at it! What a
splendid design! What glorious colors!" and at the same time they pointed to
the empty frames; for they imagined that everyone else could see this
exquisite piece of workmanship.
"How is this?" said the Emperor to himself. "I can see nothing! This is indeed
a terrible affair! Am I a simpleton, or am I unfit to be an Emperor? That
would be the worst thing that could happen--Oh! the cloth is charming," said
he, aloud. "It has my complete approbation." And he smiled most graciously,
and looked closely at the empty looms; for on no account would he say that he
could not see what two of the officers of his court had praised so much. All
his retinue now strained their eyes, hoping to discover something on the
looms, but they could see no more than the others; nevertheless, they all
exclaimed, "Oh, how beautiful!" and advised his majesty to have some new
clothes made from this splendid material, for the approaching procession.
"Magnificent! Charming! Excellent!" resounded on all sides; and everyone was
uncommonly gay. The Emperor shared in the general satisfaction; and presented
the impostors with the riband of an order of knighthood, to be worn in their
button-holes, and the title of "Gentlemen Weavers."
The rogues sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the
procession was to take place, and had sixteen lights burning, so that everyone
might see how anxious they were to finish the Emperor's new suit. They
pretended to roll the cloth off the looms; cut the air with their scissors;
and sewed with needles without any thread in them. "See!" cried they, at last.
"The Emperor's new clothes are ready!"
And now the Emperor, with all the grandees of his court, came to the weavers;
and the rogues raised their arms, as if in the act of holding something up,
saying, "Here are your Majesty's trousers! Here is the scarf! Here is the
mantle! The whole suit is as light as a cobweb; one might fancy one has
nothing at all on, when dressed in it; that, however, is the great virtue of
this delicate cloth."
"Yes indeed!" said all the courtiers, although not one of them could see
anything of this exquisite manufacture.
"If your Imperial Majesty will be graciously pleased to take off your clothes,
we will fit on the new suit, in front of the looking glass."
The Emperor was accordingly undressed, and the rogues pretended to array him
in his new suit; the Emperor turning round, from side to side, before the
looking glass.
"How splendid his Majesty looks in his new clothes, and how well they fit!"
everyone cried out. "What a design! What colors! These are indeed royal
robes!"
"The canopy which is to be borne over your Majesty, in the procession, is
waiting," announced the chief master of the ceremonies.
"I am quite ready," answered the Emperor. "Do my new clothes fit well?" asked
he, turning himself round again before the looking glass, in order that he
might appear to be examining his handsome suit.
The lords of the bedchamber, who were to carry his Majesty's train felt about
on the ground, as if they were lifting up the ends of the mantle; and
pretended to be carrying something; for they would by no means betray anything
like simplicity, or unfitness for their office.
So now the Emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the
procession, through the streets of his capital; and all the people standing
by, and those at the windows, cried out, "Oh! How beautiful are our Emperor's
new clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the mantle; and how
gracefully the scarf hangs!" in short, no one would allow that he could not
see these much-admired clothes; because, in doing so, he would have declared
himself either a simpleton or unfit for his office. Certainly, none of the
Emperor's various suits, had ever made so great an impression, as these
invisible ones.
"But the Emperor has nothing at all on!" said a little child.
"Listen to the voice of innocence!" exclaimed his father; and what the child
had said was whispered from one to another.
"But he has nothing at all on!" at last cried out all the people. The Emperor
was vexed, for he knew that the people were right; but he thought the
procession must go on now! And the lords of the bedchamber took greater pains
than ever, to appear holding up a train, although, in reality, there was no
train to hold.
THE SWINEHERD
There was once a poor Prince, who had a kingdom. His kingdom was very small,
but still quite large enough to marry upon; and he wished to marry.
It was certainly rather cool of him to say to the Emperor's daughter, "Will
you have me?" But so he did; for his name was renowned far and wide; and there
were a hundred princesses who would have answered, "Yes!" and "Thank you
kindly." We shall see what this princess said.
Listen!
It happened that where the Prince's father lay buried, there grew a rose
tree--a most beautiful rose tree, which blossomed only once in every five
years, and even then bore only one flower, but that was a rose! It smelt so
sweet that all cares and sorrows were forgotten by him who inhaled its
fragrance.
And furthermore, the Prince had a nightingale, who could sing in such a manner
that it seemed as though all sweet melodies dwelt in her little throat. So the
Princess was to have the rose, and the nightingale; and they were accordingly
put into large silver caskets, and sent to her.
The Emperor had them brought into a large hall, where the Princess was playing
at "Visiting," with the ladies of the court; and when she saw the caskets with
the presents, she clapped her hands for joy.
"Ah, if it were but a little pussy-cat!" said she; but the rose tree, with its
beautiful rose came to view.
"Oh, how prettily it is made!" said all the court ladies.
"It is more than pretty," said the Emperor, "it is charming!"
But the Princess touched it, and was almost ready to cry.
"Fie, papa!" said she. "It is not made at all, it is natural!"
"Let us see what is in the other casket, before we get into a bad humor," said
the Emperor. So the nightingale came forth and sang so delightfully that at
first no one could say anything ill-humored of her.
"Superbe! Charmant!" exclaimed the ladies; for they all used to chatter French,
each one worse than her neighbor.
"How much the bird reminds me of the musical box that belonged to our blessed
Empress," said an old knight. "Oh yes! These are the same tones, the same
execution."
"Yes! yes!" said the Emperor, and he wept like a child at the remembrance.
"I will still hope that it is not a real bird," said the Princess.
"Yes, it is a real bird," said those who had brought it. "Well then let the
bird fly," said the Princess; and she positively refused to see the Prince.
However, he was not to be discouraged; he daubed his face over brown and
black; pulled his cap over his ears, and knocked at the door.
"Good day to my lord, the Emperor!" said he. "Can I have employment at the
palace?"
"Why, yes," said the Emperor. "I want some one to take care of the pigs, for
we have a great many of them."
So the Prince was appointed "Imperial Swineherd." He had a dirty little room
close by the pigsty; and there he sat the whole day, and worked. By the
evening he had made a pretty little kitchen-pot. Little bells were hung all
round it; and when the pot was boiling, these bells tinkled in the most
charming manner, and played the old melody,
"Ach! du lieber Augustin,
Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"*
* "Ah! dear Augustine!
All is gone, gone, gone!"
But what was still more curious, whoever held his finger in the smoke of the
kitchen-pot, immediately smelt all the dishes that were cooking on every
hearth in the city--this, you see, was something quite different from the
rose.
Now the Princess happened to walk that way; and when she heard the tune, she
stood quite still, and seemed pleased; for she could play "Lieber Augustine";
it was the only piece she knew; and she played it with one finger.
"Why there is my piece," said the Princess. "That swineherd must certainly
have been well educated! Go in and ask him the price of the instrument."
So one of the court-ladies must run in; however, she drew on wooden slippers
first.
"What will you take for the kitchen-pot?" said the lady.
"I will have ten kisses from the Princess," said the swineherd.
"Yes, indeed!" said the lady.
"I cannot sell it for less," rejoined the swineherd.
"He is an impudent fellow!" said the Princess, and she walked on; but when she
had gone a little way, the bells tinkled so prettily
"Ach! du lieber Augustin,
Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"
"Stay," said the Princess. "Ask him if he will have ten kisses from the ladies
of my court."
"No, thank you!" said the swineherd. "Ten kisses from the Princess, or I keep
the kitchen-pot myself."
"That must not be, either!" said the Princess. "But do you all stand before me
that no one may see us."
And the court-ladies placed themselves in front of her, and spread out their
dresses--the swineherd got ten kisses, and the Princess--the kitchen-pot.
That was delightful! The pot was boiling the whole evening, and the whole of
the following day. They knew perfectly well what was cooking at every fire
throughout the city, from the chamberlain's to the cobbler's; the court-ladies
danced and clapped their hands.
"We know who has soup, and who has pancakes for dinner to-day, who has
cutlets, and who has eggs. How interesting!"
"Yes, but keep my secret, for I am an Emperor's daughter."
The swineherd--that is to say--the Prince, for no one knew that he was other
than an ill-favored swineherd, let not a day pass without working at
something; he at last constructed a rattle, which, when it was swung round,
played all the waltzes and jig tunes, which have ever been heard since the
creation of the world.
"Ah, that is superbe!" said the Princess when she passed by. "I have never
heard prettier compositions! Go in and ask him the price of the instrument;
but mind, he shall have no more kisses!"
"He will have a hundred kisses from the Princess!" said the lady who had been
to ask.
"I think he is not in his right senses!" said the Princess, and walked on, but
when she had gone a little way, she stopped again. "One must encourage art,"
said she, "I am the Emperor's daughter. Tell him he shall, as on yesterday,
have ten kisses from me, and may take the rest from the ladies of the court."
"Oh--but we should not like that at all!" said they. "What are you muttering?"
asked the Princess. "If I can kiss him, surely you can. Remember that you owe
everything to me." So the ladies were obliged to go to him again.
"A hundred kisses from the Princess," said he, "or else let everyone keep his
own!"
"Stand round!" said she; and all the ladies stood round her whilst the
kissing was going on.
"What can be the reason for such a crowd close by the pigsty?" said the
Emperor, who happened just then to step out on the balcony; he rubbed his
eyes, and put on his spectacles. "They are the ladies of the court; I must go
down and see what they are about!" So he pulled up his slippers at the heel,
for he had trodden them down.
As soon as he had got into the court-yard, he moved very softly, and the
ladies were so much engrossed with counting the kisses, that all might go on
fairly, that they did not perceive the Emperor. He rose on his tiptoes.
"What is all this?" said he, when he saw what was going on, and he boxed the
Princess's ears with his slipper, just as the swineherd was taking the
eighty-sixth kiss.
"March out!" said the Emperor, for he was very angry; and both Princess and
swineherd were thrust out of the city.
The Princess now stood and wept, the swineherd scolded, and the rain poured
down.
"Alas! Unhappy creature that I am!" said the Princess. "If I had but married
the handsome young Prince! Ah! how unfortunate I am!"
And the swineherd went behind a tree, washed the black and brown color from
his face, threw off his dirty clothes, and stepped forth in his princely
robes; he looked so noble that the Princess could not help bowing before him.
"I am come to despise thee," said he. "Thou would'st not have an honorable
Prince! Thou could'st not prize the rose and the nightingale, but thou wast
ready to kiss the swineherd for the sake of a trumpery plaything. Thou art
rightly served."
He then went back to his own little kingdom, and shut the door of his palace
in her face. Now she might well sing,
"Ach! du lieber Augustin,
Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"
THE REAL PRINCESS
There was once a Prince who wished to marry a Princess; but then she must be a
real Princess. He travelled all over the world in hopes of finding such a
lady; but there was always something wrong. Princesses he found in plenty; but
whether they were real Princesses it was impossible for him to decide, for now
one thing, now another, seemed to him not quite right about the ladies. At
last he returned to his palace quite cast down, because he wished so much to
have a real Princess for his wife.
One evening a fearful tempest arose, it thundered and lightened, and the rain
poured down from the sky in torrents: besides, it was as dark as pitch. All at
once there was heard a violent knocking at the door, and the old King, the
Prince's father, went out himself to open it.
It was a Princess who was standing outside the door. What with the rain and
the wind, she was in a sad condition; the water trickled down from her hair,
and her clothes clung to her body. She said she was a real Princess.
"Ah! we shall soon see that!" thought the old Queen-mother; however, she said
not a word of what she was going to do; but went quietly into the bedroom,
took all the bed-clothes off the bed, and put three little peas on the
bedstead. She then laid twenty mattresses one upon another over the three
peas, and put twenty feather beds over the mattresses.
Upon this bed the Princess was to pass the night.
The next morning she was asked how she had slept. "Oh, very badly indeed!" she
replied. "I have scarcely closed my eyes the whole night through. I do not
know what was in my bed, but I had something hard under me, and am all over
black and blue. It has hurt me so much!"
Now it was plain that the lady must be a real Princess, since she had been
able to feel the three little peas through the twenty mattresses and twenty
feather beds. None but a real Princess could have had such a delicate sense of
feeling.
The Prince accordingly made her his wife; being now convinced that he had
found a real Princess. The three peas were however put into the cabinet of
curiosities, where they are still to be seen, provided they are not lost.
Wasn't this a lady of real delicacy?
THE SHOES OF FORTUNE
I. A Beginning
Every author has some peculiarity in his descriptions or in his style of
writing. Those who do not like him, magnify it, shrug up their shoulders, and
exclaim--there he is again! I, for my part, know very well how I can bring
about this movement and this exclamation. It would happen immediately if I
were to begin here, as I intended to do, with: "Rome has its Corso, Naples its
Toledo"--"Ah! that Andersen; there he is again!" they would cry; yet I must,
to please my fancy, continue quite quietly, and add: "But Copenhagen has its
East Street."
Here, then, we will stay for the present. In one of the houses not far from
the new market a party was invited--a very large party, in order, as is often
the case, to get a return invitation from the others. One half of the company
was already seated at the card-table, the other half awaited the result of the
stereotype preliminary observation of the lady of the house:
"Now let us see what we can do to amuse ourselves."
They had got just so far, and the conversation began to crystallise, as it
could but do with the scanty stream which the commonplace world supplied.
Amongst other things they spoke of the middle ages: some praised that period
as far more interesting, far more poetical than our own too sober present;
indeed Councillor Knap defended this opinion so warmly, that the hostess
declared immediately on his side, and both exerted themselves with unwearied
eloquence. The Councillor boldly declared the time of King Hans to be the
noblest and the most happy period.*
* A.D. 1482-1513
While the conversation turned on this subject, and was only for a moment
interrupted by the arrival of a journal that contained nothing worth reading,
we will just step out into the antechamber, where cloaks, mackintoshes,
sticks, umbrellas, and shoes, were deposited. Here sat two female figures, a
young and an old one. One might have thought at first they were servants come
to accompany their mistresses home; but on looking nearer, one soon saw they
could scarcely be mere servants; their forms were too noble for that, their
skin too fine, the cut of their dress too striking. Two fairies were they; the
younger, it is true, was not Dame Fortune herself, but one of the
waiting-maids of her handmaidens who carry about the lesser good things that
she distributes; the other looked extremely gloomy--it was Care. She always
attends to her own serious business herself, as then she is sure of having it
done properly.
They were telling each other, with a confidential interchange of ideas, where
they had been during the day. The messenger of Fortune had only executed a few
unimportant commissions, such as saving a new bonnet from a shower of rain,
etc.; but what she had yet to perform was something quite unusual.
"I must tell you," said she, "that to-day is my birthday; and in honor of it,
a pair of walking-shoes or galoshes has been entrusted to me, which I am to
carry to mankind. These shoes possess the property of instantly transporting
him who has them on to the place or the period in which he most wishes to be;
every wish, as regards time or place, or state of being, will be immediately
fulfilled, and so at last man will be happy, here below."
"Do you seriously believe it?" replied Care, in a severe tone of reproach.
"No; he will be very unhappy, and will assuredly bless the moment when he
feels that he has freed himself from the fatal shoes."
"Stupid nonsense!" said the other angrily. "I will put them here by the door.
Some one will make a mistake for certain and take the wrong ones--he will be a
happy man."
Such was their conversation.
II. What Happened to the Councillor
It was late; Councillor Knap, deeply occupied with the times of King Hans,
intended to go home, and malicious Fate managed matters so that his feet,
instead of finding their way to his own galoshes, slipped into those of
Fortune. Thus caparisoned the good man walked out of the well-lighted rooms
into East Street. By the magic power of the shoes he was carried back to the
times of King Hans; on which account his foot very naturally sank in the mud
and puddles of the street, there having been in those days no pavement in
Copenhagen.
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